


Sweet Dreams, Crook

by PrisonBreakSupernaturalGirl



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 23:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6062137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrisonBreakSupernaturalGirl/pseuds/PrisonBreakSupernaturalGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time travel affects Leonard a little more than usual, and it's Sara to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams, Crook

The timeship landed roughly, jarring Snart’s nerves as the connection with the ground rocked through his strapped-in body. He heard the sound of Mick’s usual grunt of discomfort followed by a groan, but this time he didn't feel annoyance at his partner’s weakness.

Instead he, too, felt unbearably ill, more so than normal. He could feel Mick’s eyes burning into him, questioning, but he only responded with a glare.

“Welcome to the year 1954,” Rip Hunter announced, his crisp British accent grinding into Snart’s ringing ears like nails on a chalkboard. “We are currently within the perimeter of Vandal Savage’s last sighting.”

“So where exactly are we?” Jax inquired.

“London, England.” Rip Hunter responded, sounding rather sentimental as those words escaped his lips.

“Guess you'll feel right at home, then, won't you, _Rip?”_ Snart jibed. He didn't feel his usual satisfaction when Rip Hunter shot him a dirty look, but he still kept a condescending expression on his face.

Rip continued talking, briefing them on the _‘plan’_ , but Snart didn't bother to listen. He never really followed the captain’s orders...his own personal plans always worked out.

Snart closed his eyes, trying to completely tune out Rip’s irritating drone. When he opened them again, he realized that everyone else stood around the center table, staring at him.

“Mister Snart,” Rip Hunter remarked. “Is something wrong?”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Snart attempted to revert back into his normal persona, but his words slurred together. He grabbed the edge of the chair he sat in and struggled to stand. He failed miserably and ended up on the floor.

Snart looked up at the rest of the team, unbelievably ashamed. Sara saved him just in time. She strode towards him, grabbed his arm, and dragged him to his feet. “C’mon, crook,” She muttered, pulling him from the room. “Let's go.”

“The hell are we going?” Snart grumbled, rolling his eyes as she pulled him along. He didn't like this. Being dragged around by a dominant female wasn't exactly something on Snart’s list of to-do’s.

“Med bay,” Sara answered shortly, keeping an iron grasp on his forearm as he tried to pull away in distaste. “You look like crap, Snart, deal with it.”

“I'm perfectly _fine,”_ Snart sneered.

“That's why you just fell on your ass in front of everyone?” Sara jibed. “Just admit it, crook, you don't feel good.”

Snart only replied with another roll of his eyes. Upon reaching med bay, Sara shoved his sick, trembling body onto the chair and pulled it down so that he looked up at her.

“Stop being such a tough guy, crook,” Sara chided. “And go to sleep.”

“Really digging the nickname, aren't you?” Snart said sarcastically. “Well, unfortunately, I can't do that.” He began to sit up, and Sara tipped her head at him. “The mission.” Snart elaborated.

Sara grinned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don't worry, Leonard.” She responded. “Once I talk to Rip, he'll be benching you this time.”

The smirk faded off Snart’s face and he glared at her, disgruntled. “You wouldn't.”

“I would and I _will.”_ Sara answered, pushing him back unless his head was cushioned against the headrest.

“You know _just_ how to crush a man’s dreams, assassin, now don't you?” Snart said, his statement only half-amused. Sara grinned, but didn't reply. A droplet of sweat was beginning to form just on the edge of Snart’s hairline, and Sara tentatively wiped it away before pulling her hand away awkwardly.

Before Snart had a chance to say anything, she spoke. “Gideon.” She summoned the electronic being, and Snart’s muscles tensed. “Give _Mister Snart_ a mild sedative.” Snart pulled his arm away as Sara tried to stick him with a syringe. “Stay still.” She commanded roughly, resorting to plunging the needle into the side of his neck.

“You have a gift of persuasion,” Snart commented dryly, lifting his head and rubbing the spot where the syringe had pricked him.

“Well, what was I supposed to do!?” Sara demanded. “You're not exactly a willing patient.”

Snart pulled his hand away. “You're a tool, you know that, assassin?” His head began to tip backwards as the sedative started to take affect. His eyelids fluttered and then shut completely. Soon enough, his breaths were even and steady.

Sara smiled. “Sweet dreams, crook.”


End file.
